Live Stream: Overly Pampered Education Creates Three Superstars in One Family

The next morning, around six o'clock, just as dawn was breaking.

Wang Zihao sat up in bed, looking as if he had been pulled out of the water. His eyelids were swollen, and there were two clearly visible dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a mess, like a sparrow's nest blown by the wind.

He tossed and turned until dawn last night, then secretly got up to wash the dishes again, his entire sleep cycle fragmented. He sat on the edge of the bed for about thirty seconds in a daze, then mechanically got dressed and dragged himself downstairs.

Chen Chu had just woken up and was standing in the kitchen pouring himself some water.

He heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, turned around and glanced at Wang Zihao's absent-minded look. His gaze lingered on Wang Zihao's two bruises for about half a second before he looked away without asking any questions.

He pulled a crumpled ten-yuan bill from his pocket.

"I won't take you to school. You're a grown adult now, I believe you can find your way by yourself." After saying this, Chen Chu picked up his water glass and took a sip, his tone casual. "I have to take Nannan to kindergarten at eight o'clock, and I need to catch up on some sleep after I get back."

Wang Zihao stood beside the coffee table, glanced at the ten-yuan note, picked it up, folded it neatly, and stuffed it into his pocket. "Hmm."

He went to the entryway, changed his shoes, and pushed open the door to go outside. The morning air carried a slightly cool scent that filled his collar, making him a little more awake.

He didn't turn back and continued walking down the street.

There was a steamed bun shop on the left corner of the street. The steamers were stacked high, and white steam rose from the gaps in the steamers, looking like clusters of clouds rising in the morning light. He stood in front of the steamed bun shop, took out his ten-yuan note, bought a steamer of small steamed buns and a cup of soy milk, and quickly finished eating them standing on the roadside.

The taste was indeed good, with a thin skin and fresh filling. The soup overflowed the moment he bit into it, making him hiss from the heat, but he didn't stop.

After the bell rang for the second period in the morning, Wang Zihao sat in his seat, his eyes fixed on the blackboard. But the formulas and words were like water vapor floating on glass; he could see their shape but couldn't grasp their content.

He rested his chin on the back of his hand, his eyelids heavy as if filled with lead. The incident about washing dishes last night was like a pebble thrown into a lake, slowly sinking with the passage of time. He found that the hatred he felt for his father and Zhou Lin didn't seem as intense as it had been a couple of days ago.

That hatred was like a piece of burnt charcoal, still glowing red on the surface, but when you reached out to touch it, it wasn't so hot anymore.

Time really does smooth over most things. He thought to himself, slumped over the table.

The classroom door was pushed open.

The homeroom teacher walked in carrying a stack of exam papers, glanced around the classroom, and finally fixed his gaze on Wang Zihao: "Wang Zihao, come out here for a moment."

Wang Zihao raised his head, met the homeroom teacher's gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes and stood up.

As he followed his homeroom teacher out of the classroom, he heard a series of hushed whispers behind him.

"Will Tech Bro get a high score this time?"

"Those who know, know what happened with that last result."

Wang Zihao didn't stop walking; he followed his homeroom teacher into the office.

There were only two teachers grading papers in the office. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a bright area on the desk, and dust motes floated slowly in the beams of light.

The homeroom teacher took a math test paper out of the drawer, placed it in front of him, and pushed a pen towards him.

"Finish this test paper."

Wang Zihao stared at the blank exam paper, his pupils contracting slightly. He recognized the layout and question types; the difficulty level was similar to the one he had taken in his last monthly exam.

His hand hovered above the pen for two or three seconds before he gripped it.

The office fell silent, save for the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional soft rustling of a draft paper being turned over.

About eighty minutes later, he handed in his test paper. The homeroom teacher took it, glanced at it from top to bottom, then turned to the second page and looked at it again.

Her brows weren't furrowed too deeply, but she remained silent for a moment, and the way she closed the exam paper carried a sense of relief.

When she received such a test paper from a reliable student with consistently good grades, she might have just thought, "He didn't perform well this time." But when she received such a test paper from Wang Zihao, she had already come to the conclusion that his previous score could not possibly have been achieved by himself.

He scored just over 50 out of a possible 150 on the test.

The homeroom teacher put down the test paper, remained silent for a moment, and then looked up: "Call your parents to come in."

Wang Zihao stood there, his hands hanging at his sides, his fingers unconsciously clenching the fabric along the seams of his trousers.

He recalled the last time he stood in front of Wang Wenwu with his exam paper in hand.

He opened his mouth, "Teacher, could you please not call my parents?"

The homeroom teacher looked at him with a hint of surprise. The last time she called his parents, this child stood in front of her as stiff as a rock, his neck rigid and his eyes filled with a stubbornness that said, "Go ahead and call, I'm not afraid."

But today, as he stands here, his demeanor is completely different.

He didn't argue, nor did he put on an indifferent expression. He simply lowered his head and said in an almost pleading tone, "Don't call my parents."

She didn't know how this change happened, but her job required her to be lenient in such matters.

"This kind of thing requires your parents to be involved." The homeroom teacher's tone was firm, but not stern; it was more of a matter-of-fact statement. "It's about being responsible for you, and also for the other students in the class who are studying diligently."

Wang Zihao's breathing quickened for a moment: "Teacher, please, don't call my parents, okay? I can accept any punishment—cleaning the toilets, being fined, or anything else—just don't call my parents..."

The homeroom teacher glanced at him, but still picked up her phone.

After the call connected, she briefly explained the situation: Wang Zihao's score on the last monthly exam was suspected of being obtained through cheating. Today, he was asked to redo the exam, and it was confirmed that the score was seriously inaccurate. His parents needed to come to the school for a meeting.

Wang Wenwu was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone. Of course he was angry; the anger surged up when he heard the word "cheating," but after all, he was a man who had been in the business world for decades and was used to controlling himself when his emotions were running high.

His voice was steady: "Just handle it however you need to handle it."

The homeroom teacher said he needed to come to the school for a face-to-face meeting.

"I'm very busy," Wang Wenwu said calmly. "You can call her mother and ask her to come."

Wang Zihao was standing in front of his desk when he heard this sentence, and his body felt as if it had been pulled by an invisible thread.

He suddenly looked up, his voice rising abruptly, filled with an almost panicked tone: "Don't call her, teacher, please, don't call her..."

The homeroom teacher's finger hovered over the dial pad for a moment before glancing at him.

About thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the office door.

After the door was pushed open.

Zhou Lin stood at the door, wearing a plain-colored long dress, carrying a simple cloth bag, her hair slightly disheveled.

She left home as soon as she received the call, without even having time to fix her wind-blown hair.

A person followed her in, exuding a relaxed air as if he had just woken up and bought breakfast on his way out. It was Chen Chu.

The homeroom teacher's gaze shifted back and forth between Zhou Lin and Chen Chu before finally settling on Chen Chu.

She had never met Chen Chu before.

She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you... Wang Zihao's father?"

Upon hearing this, Chen Chu chuckled, waved his hand, switched the bag of xiaolongbao in his other hand, then turned to the side, put his arm around Wang Zihao's shoulder, and pulled him closer to him to compare their heights.

"Do I look that old? Look closely, I look like the older brother."